


Serenade to Spring

by monsieur_scythebeef



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Feels, Fluff and Humor, M/M, One Shot, Pre-Slash, but not very well, in which Jack plays a violin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-07
Updated: 2014-03-07
Packaged: 2018-01-14 22:12:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1280707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monsieur_scythebeef/pseuds/monsieur_scythebeef
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack Frost wanted to give Bunnymund a little special something as a symbol of their budding friendship. Everyone likes music, right? Not to mention he’s got the violin and the determination to see it through too. Too bad he is sorely lacking in the music talent department. What’s a desperate winter spirit to do?</p><p>Inspired by a song of the same name.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Serenade to Spring

**Author's Note:**

> So…this fanfic is inspired by the Irish-Norwegian New Age music duo I’ve been enamoured with since forever, Secret Garden. My favourite Secret Garden piece is, as the title says, Serenade to Spring. If you haven’t heard it, you’re committing music blasphemy. I highly recommend that you listen to it as you read this fanfic. If you can also guess the name of the piece Jack was first introduced to, you’ll get an Internet cookie. 
> 
> First fanfic, un-betaed, so I appreciate some constructive criticism. I also have one simple rule; don’t like, don’t read. Haters and flamers will be used to stoke my oven before being fed to my pet tarantulas.
> 
> A Happy (very belated) Valentine’s/Friendship Day to everyone. =D
> 
> A/N: I use British English, so certain words will take on a different way of spelling. Like “color” vs. “colour”, “realize” vs. “realise”, and “practice” vs. “practise”. On a side note, I use “practice” when referring to the noun form. =P

Jack Frost, a.k.a The Guardian of Fun, was decidedly not in a very fun mood.

The violin did not seem to understand this.

Thousands of years of music evolution ensured the violin’s repute of hauntingly enchanting music that soothed even the most savage of beasts. It has a simple purpose; to tell stories by breathing life into written notes. Famous violinists like Mozart leveraged on this fact and boosted the humble instrument into the limelight. With the advent of musical stylings like the ever popular Bond vs. Escala debate, the violin and its cousins were practically thrust into worldwide preeminence.

Everything else, as the saying goes, is history.

Sadly, though music doth sootheth thy soul, if untrained hands (or an utter lack of musical sense) are attached to said soul, the violin is as good as the proverbial pearls to swine. 

Jack Frost did not seem to understand this.

The winter spirit leveled a glare at the innocent wooden device. It was not as if he did not try to learn how to play the instrument, oh no. His calloused hands were riddled with scabs and light scars that spoke of his efforts. Jack did not mind those “battle scars”, but he had not accounted for the lack of insurance against other causes of bodily injury. When strings snapped from prolonged usage, angry marks tend to appear in their wake with the occasional spots of blood.

Finding a quiet place in Burgess to practice was just as trying. His pond might be peaceful, but a few passers-by had quite the nasty scare when they heard mysterious music (or as they put it, “noises that could wake the dead”, much to Jack’s consternation) coming from the pond. Jack thought he would have better luck practising in the nearby forested mountains. He promptly realised his naivety when he woke up every single hibernating critter and one very cantankerous grizzly bear.

Thank goodness for the Wind’s timely assistance.

In spite of everything, Jack pushed on. Jack prides himself for his stalwart determination. When he sets his mind to do something, he will stick by it.

Most of the time.

After all, it was a decisive factor that helped the Guardians against the battle against Pitch several years ago. It also let the Guardians hold onto their last believer in Jamie, and kept the kangaroo from any further…embarrassing “shortcomings”.

Jack and Bunnymund had come to an understanding that fateful day. Days of open (and one-sided on Bunnymund’s part) hostility had simmered down to a mutually enjoyable snarkfest. Helping Bunnymund set the Warren back to its former glory – despite some initial warranted suspicions – certainly scored some brownie points with him.

As they got to know each other better, Jack found out he actually did like hanging out with Bunnymund, even when they were not bickering.  Even when Bunnymund was too busy painting his eggs or mixing new colours, or when Jack dropped in unannounced or entertained himself by frosting over plants (the hardier ones at least) and a few passing eggs, the Warren maintained a light and amicable atmosphere.

It was…nice.

The icing on the cake was when Bunnymund decided to open his Warren officially to Jack. He even prepared a guestroom for Jack to stay at whenever he visited. Bunnymund had expressed guilt and remorse when the topic of the Pitch-destroyed Easter was brought up. He was not proud of himself for jumping to conclusions then, and it was made tougher by the fact that emotions were never really Bunnymund’s thing.

A Pooka in touch with his machismo just don’t do feelings.

So he had magicked Jack a discreet apology in the form of a snowdrop bud and a white tulip blossom. It took Jack a week at the Central Burgess library in the flora and fauna section to sort out the confusion of flower language. He had been somewhat amused and touched with the awkward apology. Jack was never one to hold grudges, and Bunnymund was not an unreasonable Pooka. He was willing to forgive and forget about the Easter of ’68 (and maybe work on his anger management and grudge-harbouring issues) if Jack would tone down his mischief-making frequencies around the Warren. 

Jack had given Bunnymund a smile that momentarily blinded his sensitive eyes and comatose legions of tooth-collecting critters worldwide. 

And now the one idea that Jack hoped would tell Bunnymund how much he appreciated the gestures is going up in flames.

If only looks could kill, the violin would have gone up in literal flames along with Jack’s idea. Preferably with repeated spontaneous combustion for good measure.

It had seemed like such a great idea then. Having never given any gifts before, let alone be on the receiving end, Jack had been understandably frustrated. So he decided to ask Jamie and Sophie for some peace offering advice. Sophie had enthusiastically suggested singing a _Winx Club_ and _My Little Pony_ mash-up friendship themed song.

Jack had not snorted. Nor had he doubled over in guffaws either. Really.

Jamie, being the levelheaded older brother he is, ran with the idea and asked about Bunnymund’s music preferences. Sophie was beaming so brightly, he just did not have the heart to crush her spirit. No matter how eccentric some of her ideas are.   

Jack’s response was to imitate a landed fish.

In all honesty, Jack was not sure what kind of relationship he and Bunnymund have. Sure, they are certainly on better terms with each other, but they are not _that_ close. More like… friendly acquaintances bordering on tentative sibling rivalry. Until the whole guestroom and forgive-and-forget-Easter-of-’68 thing, whatever conversation he had with Bunnymund was practically marinated in a truck load of snark.

Well, if that’s the case, go with the classics, Jamie had offered. You can’t go wrong with classical music. Music, as the saying goes, soothes the soul.

Well, whoever came up with that maxim obviously forgot to mention that music is subjective to public opinion. Unfortunately for Jack, said public opinion tilted towards negative objectivity.

Jamie had suggested picking up the violin since it was a good beginner’s instrument. He even pointed the way to a local music school that not only offered a beginner’s class, but also ran an instrument-on-loan programme for students who could not afford them. Jack had made a beeline for the school in high spirits (heh, _spirits_ ) and eagerly waited for classes to begin.

After several practice sessions, Jack was pretty sure all the violins in general have a silent vendetta against him.

Jack sighed heavily as he stretched out on the snow-laden branch he was resting on. He snuck a peak towards the violin he had “borrowed” from the school’s instrument pantry. The violin sat innocuously on the snow bank near the base of his tree.

Jack curled closer into himself before he threw his arms up in frustration and fell backwards onto his branch. He took a deep breath, the cool and tranquil winter air calming him, and let it out in a heavy gust. He flopped his right arm over his head and rested the other hand palm down on his stomach before stealing another peeved glance at the violin.

Welp. No use racking your brains when you are on an emo-high.

He yawned and closed his eyes, drowsiness settling in. Maybe if he took a short nap, inspiration might just hit him.

 

* * *

 

Jack frowned, his breaths coming out in short irritated puffs as he snuggled deeper into his self-made snow nest.

Strange. He did not remember inspiration being this... _melodious_ before.

He raised his brow ridge before snapping his eyes open when realisation slammed into him like a wrecking ball moments later.  

He was not dreaming; he was hearing actual music.

 _Violin_ music.

He zeroed in on his violin immediately. It lay in the exact position he had left it in – at the base of his tree in the snow.

So _where_ _in the Moon_ did that violin music – and very nice music at that – come from?

He grabbed his staff and flew towards the sound, ears straining as hard as he could. Eventually he found his way towards the Burgess Band Stand, where a modest crowd had gathered to enjoy some kind of concert performance.

A concert performance put on by a violinist and pianist.

Jack settled onto a nearby statue and leaned appreciatively against his staff. The performing duo, supported by a group of background musicians, played their instruments with finesse, the band stand a ballroom for their dancing notes. There was no fancy lighting, no elaborate footwork and no extravagant props; just simple, pure, crystalline music inter-weaving through the air like liquid silk. Looking at them, one could even have been forgiven for forgetting that there were two musicians instead of an orchestra, mostly because their effortless playing seemed to eerily coincide as if the whole recital had been a meticulously choreographed ballet of harmony. When the violinist stepped up her pace, the pianist was already tinkering out a quick and light-hearted tune; when the pianist pressed into deeper keys, the violinist bowed into the low tones.

A sliver of relish ran up Jack’s spine as he lost himself in the sheer _beauty_ of the music, reveled in the whirl of invoked coloured feelings, the thrill of his blood practically singing in his body as the music spun higher and higher into a flourished finish.    

Jack was still reeling from the first emotional rush after two ballads.

“Of all the things to get a high from,” Jack breathed. “…still, those two sure looked like they were having fun…”

Well, he supposed he would probably have fun playing his violin for Bunnymund and enjoy the process too if he did not have the musical sense of a buzz saw. He is the Guardian of _Fun_ for Moon’s sake!

Not that there was anyone around to vent to, so Jack decided to settle for sulking.

Discreetly, of course. If only he could play like that…

Wait, the violinist is making some spiel about their next song... what was it again?

Jack had to blink before his brain caught up with him. Thankfully, the name of the next song was reintroduced again by the emcee as the duo prepared their instruments.

 _Serenade to Spring_.

Jack blinked again. As the duo began to play, he snapped himself out of his stupor and sucked in a giddy breath. He could not believe his luck! What are the odds he would be able to hear a song dedicated to the very season Bunnymund personifies?

Actually, anything dedicated to a giant quadrupled is just plain weird. But who is he to argue if this song could well be the very ticket out of his current mess?

Jack buckled down onto his perch and homed in on the violinist. People say that great accomplishments in life are usually through 1% talent and 99% hard work. He might not have musical talent, but he has a violin and an unwavering resolve to learn. Surely his shining example of 99% is more than enough to compensate for his lack of 1%?

If the song is that spark of inspiration, just what can he achieve after a live demonstration by the stars?

 

* * *

 

Complete, utter nothingness.

Birds fly, fish swim, and Jack can’t play a violin for children’s beliefs.

“You don’t _understand_ , Sandy,” Jack wailed. “I’ve tried _everything_. I even froze the sound system of the local music shop on constant loop so that _Serenade to Spring_ kept playing! But only at night, of course.”

Sandy pat his shoulder sympathetically, wisely dispersing sand images of birds flying and fish swimming from their sitting positions on a cloud of bright sand. Sandy enjoys a good joke now and then, but he knows when to draw the line.  

“And even that did not solve anything; _I still can’t play the friggin’ violin_!” Jack flailed his arms dramatically. Sandy’s pat was slower and more deliberate this time. “By all definition whoever came up with that 1% or 99% nonsense obviously didn’t know what he was saying! Because if he did, I would be playing the violin like North’s yetis make toys! But noooo, instead…,” Jack turned and put both hands on Sandy’s shoulders before getting up close and personal with his personal bubble. “Instead, funny story, I seem to make a better elf without even trying, Sandy. Have you seen the toy _massacre_ that followed them? Because that’s what I’m doing to music in general!”

Sandy’s expression was a study in empathy and patience, despite the amusement welling up inside him.

“I refused to be beaten by a piece of wood,” good old Jack pride decided firmly. “I have to find a way around this. So help me, I _will_ find a way around this. On my namesake as the Guardian of Fun, Bunnymund _will_ get his surprise and _like_ it even if it _kills_ me! Er… again!”

Sandy was not sure whether he should be worried for Jack or Bunnymund at that point.

 

* * *

 

“Heya, Bunny!” Jack came barreling into the Warren on a gust of cool wind with a megawatt grin. Bunnymund harrumphed to acknowledge his entrance as he painted an egglet with practiced precision. 

Jack quirked a curious eyebrow and stretched out lazily on a nearby Egg Sentinel. He made sure to keep the violin hidden away from Bunnymund’s line of sight. “Er…Bunny? Wasn’t Easter over a couple of weeks ago?”

Bunnymund made a dismissive sound sending the freshly painted egglet on his way and picking up another. He flicked an ear towards Jack’s direction to show he was listening.

“Thought I’d catch up on a little egg-painting and experiment with some colours. Somethin’ up, Jack?”

Jack’s plan had been simple enough. He thought he would start with something light to set the tone.

“Nice weather, isn’t it?”

“Sure, mate.”

“So…read any good books lately? Heard some good music perhaps?”

Bunnymund gave Jack a pointed look.

“Right, busy with Easter…,” Jack rubbed the back of his neck as he grinned sheepishly. Okay, this might be harder than he thought.

“You know, Cottontail,” Jack began, picking at the rough wood of his staff. “You look exhausted. You should chill out and take a vacation. Listen to some music or something. I highly recommend New Age music; it’s the ‘in’ thing in Burgess now. In fact, I hear Ireland is nice this time of the year, and there’s a fantastic music festival in Waterford.” 

Bunnymund looked away and picked up a small bowl of coloured powder. “All right, Frostbite. What’s with the sudden interest in music?” He grabbed a couple of nearby vials of clear liquid and poured them into the bowl.    

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Jack denied innocently. He squirmed a little atop the Egg Sentient, overly aware that the flow of conversation was not going according to plan. Start with something light, drop a few musical suggestions or so, present his present, hugs all round and maybe shed some happy tears, then high-tail out of the Warren from embarrassment. The end.

Alright, so he might have laid on a little too thick on the music part.

“Really? You’ve been acting strangely since you came in. I can understand having a healthy appreciation for music and all, but now you’re just borderline obsessive.” Bunnymund stirred the congealing mixture with a paint stick until it glow an iridescent luster. Task done, he set his bowl down and sharpened his eyes on Jack’s face, expression schooled into careful neutrality.

“Now, what’s going on, Jack?” Bunnymund’s firm voice left no room for excuses.

 “It’s…,” Jack’s face flushed, and he found it increasingly difficult to look Bunnymund in the eye. Why do those green orbs have to shine with such bright curiosity and concern? He ghosted his fingers lightly over the polished wooden surface of his violin, ironically drawing comfort from the instrument that had brought him so much grief not too long ago.

“…Jack?”

“I,” Jack’s throat suddenly felt as if it was stuffed with iron cotton wool. “I want to thank you.”

Bunnymund blinked slowly. “…For what?”

“For… f-for...,” Jack’s blush darkened a few more shades. “Umm…what I mean to say-I-…that is…I-er…,” Jack’s spluttering would have been amusing if it were not for that purple-black colour slowly forming on the spirit’s face. Bunnymund wondered if that was healthy, let alone painful.

“Oh, to heck with it.” Jack sat up and reached for his violin. He plucked a few strings to make sure they were still in tune as Bunnymund perked up in bewilderment at the unexpected appearance of a violin.

Jack took a deep breath and began to bow out the one song he had been practising day and night.

_Serenade to Spring_

Jack did not have to explain himself, but it seemed like he was embarrassed to be seen like this. Perhaps he was; after all he was playing a violin instead of hurling snowballs at unsuspecting passers-by. It was a surprise, but who was Bunnymund to judge? The Pooka liked music as much as the next person does, and the song Jack was playing is definitely making his flower senses sing.

So Bunnymund sat for a while, lost in cadence bliss. The soothing and calm timbre was practically _melting_ into his face, into his arms and chest and crossed hind legs. He could feel every euphonious note penetrating his skin, warm and welcoming and ringing like tiny chimes. He delighted in it, and savoured every bit of the experience like a delicious Belgian chocolate treat.

Around Bunnymund, the egglets were bobbing to the music; some even doing a little impromptu dance number. The clouds above were swirling and ebbing gently, while a light breeze had picked up and whistled a pretty tune through the swaying flowers, grass and leaves. It was as if nature itself had been stirred into consciousness and was now resonating with Jack’s violin, complementing it with its own special brand of back-up tune. A symphony of music, man (or spirit in Jack’s case)-and-nature-made, weaving through the air with an elegance that seemed utterly in contrast to their sources of origin, a true harmony of differences and similarities.

Bunnymund almost let out a whine of disappointment after the performance was over. 

“Enjoy that little ensemble, Cottontail?” There was no missing the self-satisfied smirk on Jack’s lips as he put down his bow and violin.

“Never pegged you for one to play a musical instrument, but yes. It has been pleasant,” Bunnymund purred in contentment and stood up. “Where did you learn to play like that?”

“I…dabbled.” Ginning a little, Jack glanced over at the Pooka. “Once in a while. You really like it?”

“Of course,” Bunnymund closed the distance between them and patted the young Guardian’s back. “Haven’t heard such relaxing music in a long time. But what brought this little musical number on?”   

“Er…well,” Jack swallowed. “It’s thanks for…for giving me a chance. For giving a friendship between _us_ a chance.” He turned his gaze onto Bunnymund. “You even gave me a room at the Warren and everything…I just wanna say I really appreciate it.”

Bunnymund could feel the beginnings of a smile cracking his face.

“And I really wanted to give you something you like, but I don’t know what to get. Believe me, you don’t know how hard it is to shop for a giant bunny,” Jack looked away again as he muttered under his breath. “Jamie and Sophie suggested music and I know this song that it’s kinda like a dedication to Spring. It’s called _Serenade to Spring_ , and I thought it fits you perfectly.”

Bunnymund could not remember the last time he smiled so much.

“But first I gotta learn how to play a violin and I practise and practise and practise-”Jack was rambling and he knew it. He almost wished Bunnymund would open up a tunnel – preferably bottomless – beneath him so he could bury himself in humiliation. By the Moon, he should have prepared a thank-you speech and wrote it on his palm as a cheat sheet before coming to the Warren. Having some cheesy prattle is much better than running on nothing.

Bunnymund felt a wave of emotion bubbling up inside him. His eyes softened as he smiled a genuine smile. Waving a paw dismissively, Bunnymund chuckled lightly and ruffled Jack’s hair, much to Jack’s chagrin. Jack’s protests only encouraged him further to give him a full-on noogie. 

Laughter rang out before Bunnymund could even take it all in. Jack’s uneasiness was replaced with clear amusement as he batted Bunnymund’s paws away half-heartedly, still mindful of the violin in his hands. Eventually the laughter tapered off and Jack was left beaming happily up at Bunnymund.

“Actually, Bunny…I - er…,” Jack glanced evasively to his side. “…I have a confession to make.”

“Yes, Jack?” Bunnymund watched with curiosity as Jack braced himself and held out his violin.

“I said I practised playing the violin lots. I didn’t say I…well…mastered it.”

Bunnymund took a moment to absorb that piece of information. He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. “Whatcha getting’ at, Jack?”

“I’ve tried and I’ve tried, but no matter how hard I did I just can’t play the-” Jack held up his hands and sucked in a shuddering breath when he realized that he had just released his grip on his violin. The soft grass cushioned its fall, but the audible thud rang clear. The violin sprang open upon impact and laid bare its inner workings – or lack thereof – for all to see. Bunnymund stared at the lone crystalline egg sitting neatly in the center of the apparently hollow violin and leaned forward to pick it up.

Jack was pretty sure he was one step away from a total meltdown.

Bunnymund examined the egg like a jeweler does a diamond. Closer inspection showed that the egg was made out of refined ice crystals. Intricate frost patterns – Jack’s patented trademark – swirled around the pristine surface like a carousel, enhanced by glittering bits that mingled between the frost ridges.  And somehow, _somehow_ , Jack had managed to tint the snow in such a way, an exquisite blue-to-white gradient wound upwards with the patterns, making the overall design truly eye-popping. To top it all off, a petite miniature rabbit ice sculpture sat proudly atop the egg.

Simple, yet elegant.

Bunnymund’s inner artist was blown away. He had to admit, Jack has some impressive crafting skills. That is, if he could stop spazzing out for a moment.

“Woah, woah, Jack, slow down.” Bunnymund tried to placate Jack by rubbing his back in slow, soothing circles. “Breathe, _breathe_!”

Jack gulped down several deep breaths to steady himself. As his breathing evened out, Jack sank weakly to his knees, the staggering barrage of emotions still fresh.

“Yea…doesn’t matter how hard I tried, violins seem to have a thing against me,” Jack sighed in defeat and scratched his head.  “So I had to change tactics and get a little creative.” Here, Jack got back a little of his spunk and smiled impishly up at Bunnymund. “That ice egg there was crafted by yours truly. Got some really cool ice sculpting tips from North and nifty colour-blending techniques from Tooth. But it isn’t just any old ice egg; it’s also a music box. Here, let me show you.”

Jack floated up and pressed down on the rabbit ice sculpture. The rabbit sculpture clicked and spun upwards in a graceful and gradual curve. The same song Jack had faux-bowed began playing.

Bunnymund pinned questioning eyes on Jack.

“I figured if I couldn’t play the violin, I could record it into a music box. Well, Jamie and Sophie helped with the recording part. I turned on the egg and hid it inside this hollow violin so that I could ‘pretend’ to play it. Didn’t want all that violin practice to be for nothing. I was planning to present the egg to you sooner or later…” Jack peeked shyly from underneath his fringe as he fiddled with his hoodie strings. “Er, you’re not mad, are you?”

Bunnymund found Jack’s nervousness strangely endearing, and his mouth pulled back into a lopsided grin. He tipped his head with a chortle, before enveloping a startled winter spirit in a warm hug.

“I love it. It is the most beautiful and heartfelt gift I’d ever received.”

And he meant every word.

Jack paused for a while before letting out a whoop of joy. He looped his arms around Bunnymund’s neck and squeezed tight. Grinning a little, Bunnymund lowered Jack onto the ground as he balanced the delicate music egg in one paw. With his arms still around Bunnymud’s neck, Jack’s eyes searched through his, and brightened when they seemed to find what they were looking for before pulling away from Bunnymund’s arms.

Taking one more look at the music egg, Bunnymund gave a nod as if confirming something. “But it needs a lil’ something…a lil’ more flare, pizazz.”

Jack snorted a laugh, finding Bunnymund’s declaration interesting. He did not think Bunnymund would be the kind to “pizazz” anything. Let alone be aware of the existence of the term, being the old gummy he is.

“Really? What kind of ‘pizazz’, per se?” Jack inquired cheekily, making air quotes at the word “pizazz”.

Bunnymund tapped a furry finger to his chin in contemplation before walking over to the bowl of glittering fluid. He picked up a nearby paintbrush, dipped it into the mixture and let the brush hairs soak it in. Apparently it was one of those new kinds of paint Bunnymund had been trying out. He waited for a moment before spreading a generous dollop of that shiny paint across the surface of the music egg. After a few expert strokes, Bunnymund had laid a thin layer of glistening paint over the egg, which began to harden into a translucent shell that shone with opalescent colours. 

“Been meaning to test that new batch of paint I’d whipped up. I thought your – our – music egg would stand to be a more magnificent piece of work with it. Wat’cha think?” Bunnymund held up the egg like a sculpture showpiece.

Jack could not help but gawk in awe. The music egg had been transformed into a stunning prism of glistening hues that would put any opal to shame.

“…I think it’s brilliant. Or in your words,” Jack’s voice took on an Australian accent.  “ _A real pearler._ ” He dissolved into peals of laughter at his own joke.

Bunnymund mimed a blow at Jack’s shoulder as he chuckled lightly. Jack recovered from his laughing bout and did a somersault in the air before pausing and giving Bunnymund’s nose a light peck.

Bunnymund nearly dropped the music egg as all thoughts screeched to a halt.

“Nipped you on the nose! Catch me if you can, old-timer!” Jack grinned mischievously before disappearing down into a nearby tunnel that led to Bunnymund’s burrow.

Bunnymund touched his nose lightly, still tingling from the cool touch. Sometimes he wondered why he had let the winter spirit into his life but then there were moments like these. They may have their differences but, as far as Bunnymund was concerned, they had more good times than bad.

Glancing down at the music egg that he and Jack had made together, Bunnymund smiled then followed Jack into his burrow. “How many times must I tell ya? Ya can’t win in a race against a rabbit!”

Spring is indeed here, and nature had struck up a serenade to celebrate its arrival. If one listens closely, they may just hear the heart song reverberating true throughout the Warren.

**Author's Note:**

> So…did you guess the name of the piece Jack was first introduced to? 
> 
> It’s called Celebration. One of Secret Garden’s finest; they have performed it in front of Norwegian royalty as their encore piece. Imagine that. Here’s an Internet cookie for you if you guessed it right. =D *hands out a plate of microchips* 
> 
> If anyone else is interested, the two ballads that came after Celebration was Poeme and The Promise. You might want to prepare a box of Kleenex before listening to them, just in case the feels start up. 
> 
> Fun fact: Serenade to Spring also has a Norwegian vocal and violin version, called Danse mot vår (Dancing towards Spring). In Korea, it was sung under the name One Fine Day in October. Both versions are available on Youtube.


End file.
